Gigi’s eyes quickly darted to Juliette’s bare ring finger.
“Not that kind of news,” she muttered with a smile. “Gabi found me a job. In California.”
Her mother didn’t so much as blink. She simply sat, solemn like a statue, with her hands clasped together.
“So?” Juliette watched her, expectant.
“So?” Gigi asked in turn.
“Do you think I should take it?” Juliette scraped her teeth along her bottom lip, unable to read her mother’s penetrating gaze.
“I think you need to go where you will be content. That may be here, or it might be on the West Coast with Gabrielle.” Gigi lightly spread a bit of whipped cream onto two croissants. She put one on a plate for Juliette and kept another for herself. “Only your heart can make the truly important decisions. It’s when we ask our minds to be logical that our desires shift.”
Juliette bit into the buttery deliciousness of the warm croissant and cool cream. She hated it when her mother was right.
CHAPTER 28
Brock stood outside Mystic Florals and peered into the darkened windows.
The shop had definitely closed early. Juliette’s flower bar stood front and center, but there were no signs of movement. All the lights were off and the door was locked. The parking lot was empty, and her car wasn’t there. It probably should have been his first sign that she wasn’t at the shop, but denial was a fickle thing.
He pressed a hand up to the storefront window and peered inside one more time.
Nothing.
Behind him, the sky was already shifting colors, from stormy gray to the violet of dusk. If he didn’t find her quickly, he’d have to wait until morning.
Brock pulled his phone from his pocket and glared down at the black screen of death. Now there was no way to get ahold of her, or anyone else, for that matter. He seriously needed to get better at charging this damn piece of tech. Otherwise it was entirely useless.
Annoyed with himself, he shoved his phone back into his coat pocket and climbed into his truck. He cranked the heat tofull blast and let his head fall back against the cushioned leather seat. Time was slipping from his grasp and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His fingers strummed along the steering wheel in a restless pattern. His mind raced.
There were only a handful of other places Juliette would go. She wasn’t at the beach house. He knew because he’d just left there and would have passed her on the road if she’d decided to head back. She wasn’t in the apartment above Mystic Florals either. He’d driven past Latte & Bean, as well as Lovely Mud, both with no luck. There was no way she would go to his house, not after their most recent disagreement. He supposed she could have gone to Anne-Sophie’s new place, but he had no idea where she lived. Somewhere in Virginia Beach, which really didn’t narrow things down.
He pounded his fist against the steering wheel.
Damn it.
Where else?
Unless she’d left for California already…which she wouldn’t, he reassured himself. At least, not yet. Even that notion was a bit of a stretch. She’d have to pack and book airfare. He supposed she could drive, but it was unlikely. Even if she did want to leave, there was no way she could get all of her affairs in order to be gone by now. It was impossible. Which meant there was only one possible place left where he could find her.
He didn’t think she would go willingly, but it seemed to be the only plausible option. Especially if Juliette intended to confront her mother.
Brock put his truck in gear and drove to Georgina Laurent’s house. It was strange how easily the memories came back to him. He’d driven over to Gigi’s house nearly every morning to pick up Juliette for school, and even though he hadn’t been there in years, he took the turns like muscle memory while his mind sifted through the years. They spent hours together on herporch, rocking in the swing, gazing up at the stars. He’d sneak over in the middle of the night, and they’d sit on her shingled roof and kiss and talk, and then kiss some more. But his favorite memories were when they would park just a ways down the street, under an old oak tree where no streetlamp light could reach, and steam up the windows of his Chevy.
He pulled up to Gigi’s house and shook the images of teenage Juliette from his mind. He needed to focus on the adult version, on the woman he’d hurt. On the woman he loved.
Her car wasn’t in the driveway, but it was too late. He was already committed. The least he could do was stop in and see if Gigi knew anything. Maybe she knew where to find Juliette, if she was even willing to help him at all. He jumped out of his truck into the cold and took the porch steps two at a time.
“She’s not here.” The honed, feminine voice floated over to him from the other side of the growing darkness.
Brock whipped around to find Gigi sitting on the porch swing, a flannel blanket draped across her lap and a cigarette perched between her fingers.
“Right.” He knew she wasn’t here. Her car not being parked out front was a dead giveaway, but he had to try. “Okay. Well, thanks, Gigi.”
He turned to leave when she called out to him. “Brockton?”
He stilled. He didn’t want to have a conversation with her. Not really. Not when he knew she’d made a complete fool of him all those years ago. He faced her, keeping his expression calm and cool. The fading sunlight cast long shadows across her face, and her steel-blue eyes glinted in the afterglow of dusk.
